“You!”

Marie of Reist rose with a sudden swift movement from the sofa where she had been lying.

“I trust that my visit is not as unwelcome as it seems to be surprising,” he remarked, crossing the room towards her. “I am taking advantage——”

She held up her hand—a quick, impulsive gesture of silence.

“Hush!” she whispered. “Do not say another word. Follow me and tread lightly.”

He followed her into the circular stone wall, hung with ancient paintings, and where no light ever came save through those wonderful stained glass windows, the gift of an Emperor to Rudolph of Tyrnaus. They passed along a passage, up some stairs, and into a sitting-room. She closed the door softly, and stood for a moment with her hand still upon the handle, listening. Then, as all seemed quiet below, the fear passed from her eyes, and she smiled upon him.

“Are you mad to come here?” she asked, softly. “You ought not to show yourself in the streets. Do you not know that you are the most unpopular person in Theos?”

“I can assure you that I was not aware of it,” he answered. “In any case, who in this house would be likely to wish me harm?”

“You are quite safe here, I think,” she answered, ignoring his question. “My brother and some friends were in the next room down-stairs. I was afraid that they might hear your voice.”

He sat down on the sofa beside her.

“I am not inclined,” he said, “to quarrel with my good fortune. But as a matter of fact, it is your brother whom I wish to see. There is no reason why I should not—that I know of.”

She shook her head.

“Nevertheless,” she said, “be content to stay with me. It will be better for you. Oh yes, a very great deal better.”

Brand moved a little nearer. It was certain that there was much which he could learn from her.

“It is very pleasant to see you again, Countess!” he remarked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Countess?”

The colour flushed under his tanned cheeks. He looked away.

“Marie, then—if you will permit!”

“I do permit,” she murmured, “only you must not say it very often—until I get used to it. Oh, my friend, how glad I am to see you, and yet how dangerous it is. Why do you go on filling all the newspapers in Europe with your letters from Theos, and your praises of the King? You have made enemies here. You are even now being sought for.”

He smiled grimly.

“I thought that I must be becoming unpopular,” he said. “People are so anxious to find me that they send bullets—mostly very badly aimed ones—after me in the street. I do not understand it.”

She shuddered and glanced nervously around her. The window by which they sat was commanded by another in the eastward wing of the house. She looked at it for a moment, and her eyes were full of fear once more.

“Even now,” she murmured, “I believe that we are being watched. Look, do you see anything?”

He stood by her side, but the window was empty enough. Below, the square and streets beyond were strangely empty. A sense of desolation brooded over the place.

“I see nothing,” he answered. “I really don’t think that we need alarm ourselves.”

She drew him away to the lounge heaped with furs and drawn up to the fire. An easel was standing in one corner of the room, and behind a piano. The walls were hung with water-colours and sketches, and the air was fragrant with the odour of burning logs. Beyond was an inner apartment.

“You are the first man, except Nicholas my brother,” she said, “who has ever been in here. Remember that, please, and be very obedient. You will do all that I tell you. Will you promise?”

“Blindly,” he answered, “if you will ask me nothing impossible.”

“I shall not do that. I am going to ask you something for your own good. You must leave off writing those letters to the English newspapers.”

He was suddenly very quiet and still. But he turned and looked at her.

“Why?”

“Because it is for your safety, for the good of Theos, and because it is my wish.”

“Your wish—and whose else?”

“My brother’s.”

There was a moment’s silence. She saw signs of a new sternness about the closely-drawn lips, the steel-grey eyes, from which a momentary tenderness seemed to have vanished.

“It is true, then, what I hear,” he said, slowly. “Your brother has deserted the King?”

The change in her mood matched his. She drew herself up and looked at him with flashing eyes and uplifted head.

“My brother will not continue his allegiance to a sovereign who proposes to raise a tradesman’s daughter to the throne of Theos, and who has offered an insult to our family.”

“I am sorry to hear you talk like this,” he answered. “The King has not willingly affronted you. It was your brother to whom he owes his throne. He has not forgotten it—he is never likely to forget it. He regarded you both as his best friends here. As for Sara Van Decht, the King would take no step without the sanction and consent of his people. She will be one of the richest women in Europe, and the whole of her dowry would be spent for the good of Theos. Even then if the voice of the people were against it the King would yield. The one aim of his life is the welfare of Theos and her people.”

“So far in his care of them,” she said, scornfully, “he has met with but little success. When before have the Turks crossed the frontier of our territory? When before have we been in such grievous straits as these?”

“For these things,” he answered, “the King is blameless. This invasion of Theos is a long planned undertaking. Nothing could have stopped it. I believe that no other man in the world would have met the situation with so much skill and so resourcefully.”

She was silent for a moment. Her very calmness seemed ominous. It seemed to him that underneath she was trembling with passion.

“Marie,” he said, “I wonder that you are so blinded by this senseless prejudice against the King. But leave him for the moment out of the question. You love your country. For centuries the name of your family has been a great one in the history of Theos. Yet to-day both you and your brother are making a terrible mistake. You are drifting towards her enemies.”

“Enough!” she cried. “I can see that you are still for the King.”

“Most surely,” he answered.

“You will not discontinue those letters?”

“No!”

She pointed to the door.

“Find your way out—if you can,” she ordered, furiously. “I do not care what becomes of you. Only leave me!”

He took a quick step towards her, and grasped her wrists.

“Marie,” he said, with a sudden hoarse passion, “you can send me out to be shot if you like, but you shall kiss me first.”

Her anger passed away like magic. Her slender arms drew his face down to hers. Her eyes were soft with tears.

“Dear,” she murmured, “you shall not leave me like this. I thought that you had come here to join us—because you knew that I wanted you. And you speak only of the King as your friend—who is our enemy. Will you not be reasonable? There are brighter days in store for Theos. Stay with us and share them.”

He shook his head sadly.

“You are being deceived,” he said. “There is only one man who can save this country, and that man is Ughtred of Tyrnaus. He is honest—Domiloff is a rogue. These schemes of his have but one possible ending, and that is slavery for Theos—the total loss of her independence. Oh, it is all so plain, Marie—Domiloff’s wiles are so transparent. Let me see your brother and reconcile him to the King.”

“It is too late,” she answered. “It is impossible.”

“I have come here with a message from the King to him,” he declared. “I must at least deliver it.”

Her eyes gleamed with passion. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck.

“You are very foolish, and I don’t know why I should care for you,” she cried, “but I do, I do! Listen. This is not your country. You are not a Thetian subject; the King has no claim upon you. If you will not help us, go away until it is all over. You can easily do that. Go away and wait. I will send for you when it is all over. You will see then that I was right. No! you must not kiss me any more, dear. You must do as I say. Listen!”

She sprang away from him. There were footsteps in the corridor outside. Her face was ashen, a look of terror flashed in her eyes.

“They have found you out,” she cried. “It is Domiloff and his men. Heaven help us!”